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SELECTIONS FOR LITTLE FOLKS. 



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,, SELECTIONS 


FOR 


LITTLE FOLKS. 


B Y 

vy 

W. L. S. 





PHILADELPHIA : 

ELDREDGE & BROTHER, 

17 North Seventh Street. 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 
ELDREDGE & BROTHER, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 




J. FAGAN & SON, 
ELECTROTYPERS, PHILAD’A. 




CAXTON PRESS OF SHERMAN & CO. 



PREFACE. 


rriHAT sympathy which loves to link the 
present with the past, has prompted the 
preparation of this volume. 

It is intended for schools — for children not 
more than nine or ten years of age ; and the 
compiler would feel it a good excuse for add- 
ing another book to those already extant, 
should the little ones find pleasure in it. 

Simply to make a child glad, is a worthy 
motive for storing its mind with poetic utter- 
ances, especially when the remembrance of 
such happiness becomes a well-spring of de- 
light during a whole lifetime. 

But those educators whose experience has 

1 * V 


VI 


PEEFACE. 


taught them that language and thought are 
enriched, that love for beauty is awakened, and 
faith in truth is implanted by such memoriz- 
ings, will respect the purpose of the book, and, 
it is hoped, will use it, if they find no other 
better adapted to their wants. 


W. L.S. 




PAGE 

Who Made Them 9 

Mary’s Little Lamb . . . . . . 11 

Cradle Hymn. ....... 13 

My Tame Squirry . . . . . . 15 

The Song op the Wind 18 

The Little Girl who Told a Lie ... 20 

Father is Coming 22 

“More Blessed to Give, than to Receive” . 25 

Willie 30 

Good Night and Good Morning ... 33 

The Fairies 35 

Happy Lucy 37 

The Vain Little Girl 39 

The Boy and the Robin ..... 41 

Little Lights ....... 43 

What do the Birds Say? .... 45 

The Peacock 46 

vii 


CONTENTS. 


viii 

PAGE 

The Blind Boy ....... 48 

Learn from the Flowers ..... 51 

Kobert o’ Lincoln ...... 53 

The Ark and the Dove 59 

A Kind V»’ord 61 

Fairies in the Lily . ... . . 62 

The Unfinished Prayer ..... 66 

Faith in God 68 

The Bees 72 

Fear Not 74 

The Apple-Tree 76 

Our Lost Kitten .78 

God is in Heaven 81 

Try Again . 83 

A Child’s Prayer . . . • . . . 86 

The Pet Lamb 88 

The Use of Flowers 91 

Seven Times One 93 

The Ill-natured Brier 95 

Conscience 98 

The Children’s Hour 100 

What shall be my Angel-Name .... 103 

A Swinging Song 105 

Pbinciple Tested 107 

Charlie, and the Kobin’s Song . . . 110 



SELECTIONS 

FOR 

LITTLE FOLKS. 


WHO MADE THEM? 

L OTHER, who made the stars, which light 
The beautiful blue sky? 

Who made the moon, so clear aud bright, 
That rises up so high ? ” 

’ T was God, my child, the glorious One — 
He form’d them by his power; 

He made alike the brilliant sun. 

And every leaf and flower. 


9 


10 


WHO MADE THEM? 


“He made your little feet to walk, 

Your sparkling eyes to see, 

Your busy, prattling tongue to talk, 

Your limbs so light and free. 

“He paints each fragrant flower that glows 
With loveliness and bloom; . 

He gives the violet and the rose 
Their beauty and perfume. 

“Our various wants his hands supply. 

And guard us every hour; 

We’re kept beneath his watchful eye, 

And guided by his power. 

“ Then let your little heart, my love. 

Its grateful homage pay 
To this kind Friend who, from above. 

So gently guides your way.” 




MAKY’S LITTLE LAMB. 

'^ir ARY had a little lamb — 

Its fleece was white as snow; 
And everywhere that Mary went, 

The lamb was sure to go. 

He follow’d her to school one day — 
That was against the rule; 

It made the children laugh and play, 
To see a lamb in school. 

And so the teacher turn’d him out; 

But still he linger’d near. 

And waited patiently about. 

Till Mary did appear. 


11 


12 


maky’s little lamb. 


And then he ran to her, and laid 
His head upon her arm, 

As if he said, I ’m not afraid ; 

You’ll keep me from all harm.” 

“What makes the lamb love Mary so?” 

The eager children cry. 

“ Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know,” 
The teacher did reply. 

And you each gentle animal 
In confidence may bind. 

And make them follow at your will, 

If you are only kind. 




CRADLE HYMN. 

T^USH, my dear, lie still and slumber ; 

Holy angels guard thy bed;* 
Heavenly blessings without number, 
Gently falling on thy head. 

Sleep, my babe — thy food and raiment, 
House and home, thy friends provide; 
And, without thy care or payment. 

All thy wants are well supplied. 

Soft and easy is thy cradle; 

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, 

When his birthplace was a stable. 

And his softest bed was hay. 

2 


13 


14 


CRADLE HYMN. 


Was there nothing but a manger, 

Sinful mortals could afford 

To receive the heavenly stranger? 

Did they thus affront the Lord? 

Then, to read the shameful story, 

How the Jews refused their King — 

How they scorned the Lord of glory — 
Makes me tremble while I sing. 

See the 'kinder shepherds round him 
Telling wonders from the sky ; 

Where they sought him, there they found him. 
With his virgin mother by. 

Lo! he slumbers in the manger. 

Where the horned oxen fed ! 

Peace, my darling, here ’s no danger. 

There’s no oxen near thy bed. 

May’st thou live to know and fear him. 
Trust and love him all thy days ; 

Then, go dwell forever near him. 

See his face, and sing his praise. 



MY TAME SQUIRREL. 

T HAD a little squirry — 

His step was quick and light, 

His tail was long and furry, 

And liis eyes were large and bright. 

He burrow’d ’neath my pillow, 

And curl’d himself to sleep. 

Or in my basket willow 
He slyly loved to creep. 

It was no use to scold him; 

He always had his way. 

Though oft and oft I told him 
To be quiet in his play. 


15 


16 


MY TAME SQUIRREL, 


But bolder still and bolder, 

He grew with every week ; 

He’d spring upon my shoulder, 
And frisk across my cheek ; 

And nibble at the drawers, 

Where almonds were, and dates ; 
And pull to rags the flowers. 

And run across the plates ! 

A bunch of cowslips yellow 
To him was matchless fun. 

But, oh ! the greedy fellow ! 

He ate them, every one ! 

He built his nest aloft there. 
Behind a baiTicade; 

And none can tell how soft there 
The little crib he made. 

What piles of woolly cotton ! 

What balls of worsted bright! 
What skeins of silk, forgotten. 

Or left within his sight ! 


MY TAME SQUIRREL. 


17 


And none can tell what bunches 
Of hazel-nuts were stored, 
What dinners and what lunches 
Were in that secret hoard! 

O squirry, nimble squirry ! 

I loved thy merry ways, 

And never felt it weary 

To watch thee in thy plays. 



2 * 


B 



THE SONG OF THE WIND. 

T HEAKD the Wind of the Winter, 

As he hurried across the lea: 
tio, ho ! ” he cried, “ on every side 
There is labor awaiting me. 

I must toil for the stern new-comer. 

And baffle the smile o’ the sun. 

And the work of that coquette. Summer, 
Must all, all be undone. 

‘‘She has cover’d the trees with leaflets; 

I will strip them naked and bare; 

And vain is their wail to the winter gale. 
For I heed not sigh nor prayer : 


18 


THE SONG OF THE WIND. 


19 


I will wither each bud and blossom 
That she scatter’d upon the lea, 

And I’ll beat on the earth’s green bosom 
Till it’s brown as brown can be. 

“And I’ll sail high o’er the hill-tops, 

And burst the lowering cloud. 

Till down and down, o’er the meadow brown. 
The snow shall fall like a shroud. 

I will bind in icy fetters 

The stream that the Summer loves ; 

And bleak and grim, and dark and dim. 
Will I render her smiling groves. 

“I will cover the blue, blue heavens 
With beetling clouds of storm ; 

And bleak to the eye shall be the sky 
That the Summer made fair and warm.” 
On sped the Wind of the Winter. 

“I slaughter, and who will save? 

Ay, who ? ” he cried ; “ for both deep and wide 
Am I digging the Summer’s grave.” 



THE LITTLE GIRL THAT TOLD A LIE. 
ND has my darling told a lie? 



. Did she forget that God was by? 

\ That God, who saw the thing she did, 
From whom no action can be hid : 

Did she forget that God could see 
And hear, wherever she might be? 

He made your eyes, and can discern, 
Whichever way you think to turn : 

He made your ears, and he can hear. 

When you may think there’s no one near: 
In every place, by night or day. 

He watches all you do or say. 


20 


THE LITTLE GIRL THAT TOLD A LIE. 21 


You thought, because you were alone, 
Your falsehood never could be known; 
But liars always are found out. 
Whatever ways they wind about; 

Then always be afraid, my dear, 

To tell a lie, for God can hear. 

I wish, my dear, you’d always try. 

To act, as shall not need a lie ; 

And when you wish a thing to do. 

That has been once forbidden you. 
Remember that, nor ever dare 
To disobey, for God is there. 

Why should you fear to tell me true? 
Confess, I then will pardon you ; 

Tell me you ’re sorry, and will try 
To act much better, by and by. 

And then, whate’er your crime has been, 
Tt won’t be half so great a sin. 



FATHER IS COMING. 

rjlHE clock, is on the stroke of six, 
The father’s work is done; 

Sweep up the hearth, and mend the fire. 
And put the kettle on ; 

The wild night-wind is blowing cold, 
’Tis dreary crossing o’er the wold. 

He’s crossing o’er the wold apace. 

He ’s stronger than the storm ; 

He does not feel the cold, not he, 

His heart — it is so warm ; 

For father’s heart is stout and true 
As ever human bosom knew. 


22 


FATHER IS COMING. 


23 


He makes all toil, all hardship light; 

Would all men were the same! 

So ready to be pleased, so kind. 

So very slow to blame! 

Folks need not be unkind, austere, 

For love hath readier will than fear. 

Nay, do not close the shutters, child ! 

For far along the lane 
The little window looks, and he 
Can see it shining plain. 

I ’ve heard him say, he loves to mark 
The cheerful firelight through the dark. 

And we’ll do all that father likes, 

His wishes are so few — 

Would they were more! that every hour 
Some wish of his I knew! 

I’m sure it makes a happy day. 

When I can please him any way. 

I know his coming, by this sign, 

The baby’s almost wild; 


24 


FATHER IS COMING. 


See how he laughs, and crows, and stares ! 

Heaven bless the merry child I 
He’s father’s self in face and limb, ’ 

And father’s heart is strong in him. 

Hark! hark! I hear his footsteps now; 

He’s through the garden gate! 

Eun, little Bess, and ope the door. 

And do not let him wait. 

Shout, baby, shout ! and clap thy hands. 
For father on the threshold stands. 




“MORE BLESSED TO GIVE, THAN TO 
RECEIVE.’^ 

TTTHY, Phebe, are you come so soon ? 

* ' Where are your berries, child ? 

You cannot, sure, have sold them all — 
You had a basket piled.” 

“No, mother; as I climb’d the fence, 

The nearest way to town, 

My apron caught upon the stake. 

And so I tumbled down. 

“I scratch’d my arm, and tore my hair. 
But still did not complain ; 

And, had my blackberries been safe. 

Should not have cared a grain. 

3 


25 


26 


MORE BLESSED TO GIVE, 


(C 


“But when I saw them on the ground, 
All scatter’d by my side, 

I pick’d my empty basket up. 

And down I sat and cried. 

“Just then a pretty little Miss 
Chanced to be walking by ; 

She stopp’d, and looking pitiful. 

She begg’d me not to cry.” 

“‘Poor little girl, you fell,’ said she, 

‘ And must be sadly hurt : ’ 

‘ Oh, no,’ I cried ; ‘ but see my fruit. 

All mix’d with sand and dirt.’ 

“‘Well, do not grieve for that,’ she said; 
‘ Go home, and get some more.’ 

‘Ah, no, for I have stripp’d the vines. 
These were the last they bore. 

“ ‘ My father. Miss, is very poor. 

And works in yonder stall ; 

He has so many little ones. 

He cannot clothe us all. 


27 


THAN TO KECEIVE.” 

“ ‘ I always long’d to go to church, 

But never could I go; 

For when I ask’d him for a gown, 

He always answer’d “No.” 

“‘There’s not a father in the world 
That loves his children more ; 

“I’d get you one with all my heart. 
But, Phebe, I am poor.” 

“‘But when the blackberries were ripe. 
He said to me, one day, 

“ Phebe, if you will take the time 
That’s given you for play, 

“‘And gather blackberries enough. 

And carry them to town, 

To buy your bonnet and your shoes. 
I’ll try to get a gown.” 

“ ‘ Oh, Miss, I fairly jump’d for joy. 

My spirits were so light; 

And so, when I had leave to play, 

I pick’d with all my might. 


MORE BLESSED TO GIVE, 


‘I sold enough to get my shoes, 

About a week ago ; 

And these, if they had not been spilt, 
Would buy a bonnet too. 

‘But now they’re gone, they all are gone. 
And I can get no more. 

And Sundays I must stay at home. 

Just as I did before.’ 

And, mother, then I cried again. 

As hard as I could cry; 

And looking up, I saw a tear 
Was standing in her eye. 

She caught her bonnet from her head, 

‘ Here, here,’ she cried, ‘ take this ! ’ 

‘ Oh, no, indeed — I fear your ma 
Would be offended, Miss.’ 

‘ My ma ! no, never ; she delights 
All sorrow to beguile. 

And ’tis the sweetest joy she feels. 

To make the wretched smile. 


THAN TO RECEIVE. 


29 


“‘She taught me when I had enough, 
To share it with the poor, 

And never let a needy child. 

Go empty from the door. 

“ ‘ So take it, for you need not fear 
Offending her, you see ; 

I have another, too, at home. 

And one’s enough for me.’ 

“So then I took it — here it is — 
For, pray, what could I do ? 

And, mother, I shall love that Miss 
As long as I love you.” 


3 * 



WILLIE. 

/^H! where is Willie, my brother? 

Up and down the stair, 

And in the porch, and over the lawn. 

And under the milk-white blossoming thorn, 
I seek, but he is not there. 

Oh, where is Willie, my brother?’’ 

Not a sound doth she hear 
But the solemn knell 
Of a funeral bell, 

In the old church tower anear. 

“ O Willie, Willie, my brother — 

So wan thy face had grown ! 

When I saw thee, darling, yesterweek. 

And kiss’d thy lip, and kiss’d thy cheek, 

30 


WILLIE. 


31 


And soothed thy sobbing moan — 

O Willie, Willie, my brother ! ” 

Not a sound doth she hear. 

But the solemn knell 
Of a funeral bell. 

In the old church tower anear. 

“ O Willie, the day is dreary ! 

O Willie, I cannot play; — 

To hear thy little foot on the floor. 

And thy sweet, shrill laugh ring out once more, 
I ’d give my life away ! 

O Willie, Willie, my brother ! ” 

Not a sound doth she hear 
But the solemn knell 
Of a funeral bell. 

In the old church tower anear. 

“ O Willie, I love thee dearly — 

Oh ! darling, listen to me ; 

If thou hast left me, and gone afar 
To the land where the blessed children are. 
Oh, send an angel from that bright star. 


82 


WILLIE. 


To take me up to thee! 

O Willie, Willie, my brother ! ” 
Not a sound doth she hear 
But the solemn knell 
Of a funeral bell. 

In the old church tower anear. 




GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD MOKNING. 

A FAIR little girl sat under a tree. 

Sewing as long as her eyes could see ; 

Then smoothed her work and folded it right, 
And said,^“ Dear work! good night! good night! ” 

Such a number of rooks came over her head, 
Crying “ Caw ! caw ! ” on their way to bed ; 

She said, as she watch’d their curious flight, 

“ Little black things ! good night ! good night ! ” 

The horses neigh’d, and the oxen low’d ; 

The sheep’s “Bleat! bleat! ” came over the road; 
All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, 

“ Good little girl ! good night ! good night ! ” 

C 33 



34 


GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD MORNING. 


She did not say to the sun “ Good night ! ” 
Though she saw him there, like a ball of light ; 
For she knew he had God’s own time to keep 
All over the world, and never could sleep. 

The tall pink fox-glove bow’d his head — 

The violets court’sy’d and went to bed ; 

And good little Lucy tied up her hair. 

And said on her knees her favorite prayer. 

And while on her pillow she softly lay. 

She knew nothing more till again it was day; 
And all things said to the beautiful sun, 

“Good morning! good morning! our' work is 
begun ! ” 




THE FAIRIES. 

1~\0 you wonder where the Fairies are, 
That folks declare have vanish’d? 

They ’re very near, yet very far. 

But neither dead nor banish’d. 

They live in the same green world to-day. 
As in bygone ages of olden. 

And you enter in by the ancient way. 
Through an ivory gate and golden. 

It ’s the land of Dreams — oh ! fair and bright. 
That land, to many a rover ; 

But the heart must be pure and the conscience 
light. 

That would cross its threshold over; 

35 


36 


THE FAIRIES. 


And see all the Dreamland valleys cool, 
And the hilltops, blue and airy. 

And each beautiful dell and dingle, full 
Of Brownie and Gnome and Fairy. 

Now, Nellie, if you’ll be good and kind. 
And each wTong impulse smother. 

And learn your lessons with steady mind, 
And love your father and mother; 

Some night, when the sun in darkness dips. 
We’ll seek the Dreamland olden. 

And you shall touch with your finger-tips 
The ivory gate and golden. 

And the queen will say, “ Child, come and see 
The moonbeams build my palace; 

And we’ll sip together the May-dew free. 
From fairy cup and chalice.” 



HAPPY LUCY. 

A NKLE-DEEP in grass and clover, 
Lucy lightly trips along, 

With her merry eyes all sunshine. 

And her joyous heart all song. 

Plucking buttercups and daisies, 

Violets sweet, and vetches gay. 

With the wild-bees round her humming, 
All along the pleasant way. 

Now a little gate she opens. 

And, with happiness complete, 

Sees her pet lamb lightly bounding 

O’er the long grass to her feet. 

4 


37 


38 


HAPPY LUCY. 


Now she weaves sweet garlands for him, 
Lovely chains of blossoms bright, 

With her gentle favorite frisking 
Round in innocent delight. 

When they both were tired of playing, 

“ Come,” said Lucy, “ let us rest ; ” 
And she drew from out her bosom 
One dear Book, of all the best. 

Happy, kindly-hearted Lucy! 

Well might she be blithe and gay. 
For she loved one Lamb, most precious, 
Who had borne her sins away. 




THE VAIN LITTLE GIRL. 

"rTTHAT ! looking in the glass again ? 

" ^ Why ’s my silly child so vain ? 
Do you think yourself as fair 
As the gentle lilies are ? 

Is your merry eye as blue 
As the violet, wet with dew? 

Yet it loves the best to hide 
By the hedge’s shady side. 

When your cheek the brightest glows, 

Is it redder than the rose? 

But the rose’s biids are seen 
Almost hid with moss and green. 


39 


40 


THE VAIN LITTLE GIRL. 

Little flowers, that open gay, 

Peeping forth at break of day, 

In the garden, hedge, or plain. 

Do you think that they are vain? 

Beauty soon will fade away, 

Your rosy cheek must soon decay : 
There ’s nothing lasting, you will find, 
But the treasures of the mind. 


40 




THE BOY AND THE ROBIN. 

QjO now, pretty robin, you Ve come to my door, 
^ I wonder you never have ventured before ! 

’T is likely you thought I would do you some 
harm ; 

But pray, sir, what cause could there be for 
alarm ? 

You seem to be timid — I ’d like to know why — 
Did I ever hurt you ? what makes you so shy ? 
You shrewd little rogue, I ’ve a mind, ere you go, 
To tell you a thing it concerns you to know. 

You think I have never discover’d your nest ; 

’T is hid pretty snugly — that must be confess’d ; 
4 ^ 41 


42 


THE BOY AND THE ROBIN. 


Ha, ha ! how the boughs are entwined all around ! 
No wonder you thought it would never be found. 

You ’re as cunning a rogue as ever I knew ; 

And yet — ha, ha, ha ! 1 ’in as cunning as you I 
I know all about your nice home on the tree — 
’T was nonsense to try and conceal it from me. 

Go home, where your mate and your little ones 
dwell ; 

Though I know where they are, I never will tell ; 
Nobody shall injure the leaf-cover’d nest. 

For sacred to me is the place of your rest. 

Adieu ! for you want to bo flying away. 

And it would be too cruel to ask you to stay! 
But come in the morning — come early, and sing: 
You shall see what I’ll give you, sweet warbler 
of spring! 



LITTLE LIGHTS. 
ESUS bids us shine 



^ With a pure, clear light, 
Like a little candle 
Burning in the night. 

In the world is darkness. 

So we must shine — 

You in your small corner, 
And I in mine. 

Jesus bids us shine 
First of all for Him ; 

Well he sees and knows it 
If our light is dim ! 


43 


44 


LITTLE LIGHTS. 


He looks down from heaven 
To see us shine — 

You in your small corner, 

And I in mine. 

Jesus bids us shine 
Then for all around ; 

For many kinds of darkness 
In the world are found : 

There’s sin, there’s w^ant, and sorrow; 

So we must shine — 

You in your small corner, 

And I in mine. 




WHAT DO THE BIKDS SAY? 

T^O you ask what the birds say? The spar- 
row and the dove, 

The linnet, and the thrush say, “ I love,” and “ I 
love ! ” 

In the winter they’re silent, the wind is so strong ; 

What it says I don’t know, but it sings a loud 
song. 

But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm 
weather, 

And singing and loving — all come back together. 

But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love. 

The green fields below him, the blue sky above. 

That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he, 

“ I love my love, and my love loves me.” 


45 



THE PEACOCK. 

OME, come, Mr. Peacock, you must not be 



^ proud. 

Although you can boast such a train ; 

For there ’s many a bird more highly endow’d, 
Not half so conceited and vain. 

Remember, gay bird, that a suit of fine clothes 
Is a sorry distinction at most ; 

And seldom much valued, excepting by those 
Who only such graces can boast. 

The nightingale certainly wears a plain coat, 
But he cheers and delights with his song ; 
While you, though so vain, cannot utter a note. 
To please by the use of your tongue. 


46 


THE PEACOCK. 


47 


The eagle can’t boast of a plumage so gay, 
But more piercing the glance of his eye; 
And while you are strutting about all the day, 
He gallantly soars in the sky. 

The dove may be clad in a plainer attire. 

But is she thus selfish and cold ? 

Her love and affection more pleasure inspire 
Than all your fine purple and gold. 

Thus you see, Mr. Peacock, you must not be 
proud. 

Although you can boast such a train ; 

For many a bird is more highly endow’d. 

And not half so conceited and vain. 




THE BLIND BOY. 

TT was a blessed summer’s day, 

The flowrets bloom’d, the air was mild, 
The little birds pour’d forth their lay. 
And everything in nature smiled. 

In pleasant thought I wander’d on. 
Beneath the deep wood’s ample shade. 
Till suddenly I came upon 

Two children that had thither stray’d. 

Just at an aged birch -tree’s foot, 

A little boy and girl reclined; 

His hand in hers she kindly put — 

And then I saw the boy was blind ! 

48 


THE BLIND BOY. 


49 


“ Dear Mary/’ said the poor blind boy, 

“That little bird sings very long; 

Say, do you see him in his joy? 

And is he pretty as his song?” 

“Yes, Edward, yes,” replied the maid, 

“ I see the bird on yonder tree : ” 

The poor boy sigh’d, and gently said, 

“ Sister, I wish that I could see ! ” 

“ The flowers, you say, are very fair, 

And bright green leaves are on the trees. 
And pretty birds are singing there — 

How beautiful for one who sees! 

“Yet I the fragrant flower can smell, 

And I can feel the green leaf’s shade, 
And I can hear the notes that swell 
From those dear birds that God has made. 

“So, sister, He to me is kind, 

Though sight, alas ! he has not given ; 

But tell me, are there any blind 

Among the children up in heaven?” 


50 


THE BLIND BOY. 


“ No, dearest Edward, there all see ! 

But wherefore ask a thing so odd?” 
“ O Mary ! He ’s so good to me, 

I thought I ’d like to look at God.” 




LEAKN FROM THE FLOWERS. 

^OM!'], my love, and do not spurn 
^ From a little flower to learn : 
See the lily on the bed, 

Hanging down its modest head ; 
While it scarcely can be seen, 
Folded in its leaf of green. 

Yet we love the lily well. 

For its sweet and pleasant smell; 
And would rather call it ours, 

Than many other gayer flowers ; 
Pretty lilies seem to be 
Emblems of humility. 


51 


52 


LEARN FROM THE FLOWERS. 


Come, my love, and do not spurn 
From a little flower to learn : 

Let your temper be as sweet 
As the lily at your feet; 

Be as geu tie, be as mild, 

Be a modest, simple child. 

’Tis not beauty that we prize: 

Like a summer flower it dies ; 

But humility will last. 

Fair and sweet, when beauty’s past; 
And the Saviour from above 
Views a humble child with love. 




ROBERT O’ LINCOLN. 

T3 OBERT O’ LINCOLN arrived here one day, 
XL When April had all the bland sweetness of 
May, 

And alighting with grace on an apple-tree twig. 
He smoothed down his black satin jacket so trig. 
And nodding his head in a good-humor’d way. 
Announced his intention all summer to stay. 
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Chink-a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 

Robert o’ Lincoln can’t think for his life 
What he shall do for the want of a wife — 

A good little wife -—who at home while she stays. 

Will never find fault with his rollicking ways : 
5 ^ 63 


54 


EGBERT o’ LINCOLN. 


He wonders if grass or if clover is best 
For keeping young bob-o’-links conceal’d in the 
nest. 

Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Chink-a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 

He stops at the spring-head a moment to drink, 
And concludes he will leave that to Mrs. Boblink, 
And he fussles his feathers and looks very spry, 
With a twitch of his tail and a cock of his eye, 
For just then, a low chirp from a little brown bird. 
Seem’d the sweetest good-morning that Bob ever 
heard. 

Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Chink-a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 

But the shy little lady, for all his brave speech. 
Only flutter’d her wings, but kept out of his reach ; 
She thought his fine feathers were rather too bright. 
His manners too dashing, his conduct too light. 


ROBERT O LINCOLN. 


. 55 


Too jolly and merry and careless by half : 

But he trill’d out a song that was more like a 
laugh. 

Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Chink-a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee, 

For Bob was a wooer not made for defeat — 

He was full of excuses and promises sweet ; 

So down where the clover-field slopes to the west. 
With dry hay and warm feathers he built her a 
nest ; 

And a wonderful bustle, with coming and going, 
They kept in the sunshine, with music o’erflowing. 
Bob o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Chink-a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 

The blossoms have come in sweet-scented clover. 
And Bob is the safhe merry husband and lover ; 
And six precious eggs, speckled lilac and white. 
Of which Bob-o’-link can get hardly a sight. 


56 


ROBERT o’ LINCOLN. 


With tenderest care gather’d under her wings, 
The little brown nest-mother guards, while he 
sings 

Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link. 

Chink- a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 

There ! something is stirring, just under her breast. 
There is something alive in the warm little nest ! 
They are both of them young, neither Bob nor 
his wife 

Ever saw baby boblink before in their life. 

And when the whole six have chipp’d out of the 
shell. 

Their w^onder is greater than music can tell. 
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Chink-a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 

And Bob thinks to himself, “ ^nust hurry indeed. 
With myself and my wife and six young ones to 
feed; 


ROBERT o’ LINCOLN. 


57 


I must go to bed late and get up with the sun, 
And have rather less singing and frolic an,d fun.” 
Yet he knows all the while it would shame him 
for life 

If he did not take care of that nice little wife. 
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Chink-a-chinkj chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 

And so with the energy worthy a man, 

He hurries and bustles to do what he can ; 

And the little boblinks are well furnish’d with 
seeds. 

For Bob is right proud of the children he feeds ; 
And the little brown mother exults in her choice. 
With a thrill of delight when she hears his sweet 
voice. 

Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Chink-a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 

He idles sometimes — then he suddenly thinks, 
‘‘I’m a family bird, wdth a nest of boblinks!” 


58 


ROBERT O LINCOLN. 


And he bustles around until daylight is dim, 

As if never a boblink had young ones but him ; 
While you hear from the midst of the blossoming 
clover 

His sweet merry song running over and over. 
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link, 

Chink-a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 

Ere long we shall miss him, both him and his 
song. 

For the little boblinks have grown restless and 
strong ; 

And soon they will leave us ; but where they will 
go. 

Some one who is wiser than I am may know : 
Only this much is certain, we hope every spring 
Robert Lincoln will build in the clover, and sing 
Bob-o’ link, bob-oMink, 

Chink-a-chink, chink-a-chink, 
Chit-a-did-dee. 



THE ARK AND THE DOVE. 

rilHERE was a noble ark, 
Sailing o’er waters dark 
And wide around ; 

Not one tall tree was seen, 

Nor flower, nor leaf of green — 
All, all was drown’d. 

Then a soft wing was spread, 
And o’er the billows dread 
A meek dove flew; 

But on that shoreless tide 
No living thing she spied, 

To cheer her view. 


59 


60 


THE ARK AND THE DOVE. 


So to the ark she fled, 
With weary, drooping head, 
To seek for rest. 

Christ is thy ark, my love; 
Thou art the tender dove ; 
Fly to His breast. 




A KIND WORD. 

A LITTLE word in kindness spoken, 

A motion, or a tear, 

Has often heal’d the heart that’s broken. 
And made a friend sincere. 

A word — a look — has crush’d to earth 
Full many a budding flower, 

Which, had a smile but own’d its birth, 
Would bless life’s darkest hour. 

Then deem it not an idle thing 
A pleasant word to speak : 

The face you wear, the thoughts you bring, 
A heart may heal or break. 


61 



THE FAIRIES IN THE LILY. 

/^NCE in the early summer, 

^ Two little fairies play’d 
In the shadow on the streamlet, 
By a water-lily made. 

One was a little fairy, 

Much smaller than the other; 
And yet the largest fairy 

Was the little fairy’s brother. 

They sported in the shadow, 

They chased the rippling wave. 
And let the cool fresh water 
Their shining pinions lave. 


62 


THE FAIRIES IN THE LILY. 


At last, when they were weary, 

The largest fairy said, 

“ It seems to me that lily’s cup 
Would make a lovely bed.” 

Out laugh’d the smallest fairy: 

And a robin in the tree 

Paused in the middle of his song 
To hear what it might be. 

Then said the largest fairy, 

“The lily is so tall, 

Suppose we borrow robin’s wings, 
To save us from a fall?” 

The robin, looking downward, 

Heard every word they said; 

He pruned his russet feathers. 

And then he shook his head. 

Said he, “Good friends, excuse me. 
My wings myself I need ; 

For, have I not a wife at home, 
And little ones to feed ? 


64 


THE FAIRIES IN THE LILY. 


“And yonder comes a butterfly, 

Of charming size and hue — 

I beg you will excuse me;’’ 

And away the robin flew. 

“ Now,” said the little fairy, 

“’Tis a funny sight to see, 

When one don’t wish to do a thing. 
How busy one can be ! 

“We do not need his pinions; 

But, lily, lady fair. 

Just give me leave to bend your head 
A little in the air. 

“Now lift these waxen leaves apart, 
Open thy fragrant breast: 

Was ever monarch on his throne 
In such a glory drest? 

“Ah, this is really charming! 

Come up here, darling brother; 

The wind shall rock us as we lie 


And talk to one another.” 


THE FAIRIES IN THE LILY. 


65 


The largest fairy lightly sprang 
Up from the shining brook; 

And in the lily’s pearly leaves 
His place beside her took. 

And swinging, as the stem was sway’d 
With motion light and slow, 

The cloudless sunshine overhead, 

The shaded stream below — 

Soft cradled in the fragrant bloom, 
Rock’d by the summer air. 

With folded wings they went to sleep 
And slumber’d sweetly there. 

And pleasant must their dreams have been ; 
At least the story tells. 

That even yet the fairies rest 
In the sweet lily bells. 

Look down among their snowy leaves. 
When bright with morning dew. 

And if you do not find them there. 

Why, I see more than you. 

6^ E 



THE UNFINISHED PRAYER. 


"1^ OW I lay me ” — say it, darling. 

“ Lay me,” lisp’d the tiny lips 
Of my daughter, kneeling, bending 
O’er her folded finger-tips. 


“Down to sleep” — “To sleep,” she murmur’d. 
And the curly head dropp’d low; 

“ I pray the Lord ” — I gently added, 

“You can say it all, I know.” 


“ Pray the Lord ” — the w^ords came faintly ; 
Fainter still — “ my soul to keep ; ” 

Then the tired head fairly nodded. 

And the child was fast asleep. 


66 


THE UNFINISHED PRAYER. 


67 


But the dewy eyes half open’d 
When I clasp’d her to my breast ; 
And the dear voice softly whisper’d, 

“ Mamma, God knows all the rest.” 

Oh, the trusting, sweet confiding 
Of the child heart! Would that I 
Thus might trust my Heavenly Father, 
He who hears my feeblest cry! 




FAITH IlSr GOD. 

T KNEW a widow very poor. 

Who four small children had; 

The oldest was but six years old, 

A gentle, modest lad. 

And very hard this widow toil’d 
To feed her children four; 

A noble heart the mother had, 

Though she was very poor. 

To labor she would leave her home, 
For children must be fed ; 

And glad was she when she could buy 
A shilling’s worth of bread. 


68 


FAITH IN GOD. 


69 


And this was all the children had 
On any day to eat: 

They drank their water, ate their bread, 
But never tasted meat. 

One day, when snow was falling fast, 
And piercing was the air, 

I thought that I w^ould go and see 
How these poor children were. 

Ere long I reach’d their cheerless home — 
’T was search’d by every breeze — 

When, going in, the eldest child 
I saw upon his knees. 

I paused to listen to the boy; 

He never raised his head. 

But still went on and said, “Give us 
This day our daily bread.” 

I waited till the child was done. 

Still listening as he pray’d ; 

And W'hen he rose, I ask’d him why 
That prayer he then had said. 


70 


FAITH IN GOD. 


“ Why, sir,” said he, “ this morning, when 
My mother went away. 

She wept because she said she had 
No bread for us to-day. 

“She said we children now must starve. 
Our father being dead ; 

And then I told her not to cry. 

For I could get some bread. 

“ ‘ Our Father,^ sir, the prayer begins, 
Which made me think that he. 

As we have no kind father here. 

Would our kind Father be. 

“ And then, you know, sir, that the prayer 
V Asks God for bread each day; 

So in the corner, sir, I went. 

And that’s what made me pray.” 

I quickly left that wretched room, 

And went with fleeting feet. 

And very soon was back again 
With bread enough to eat. 


FAITH IN GOD. 


71 


thought God heard me,” said the boy; 
I answer’d with a nod — 

I could not speak ; but much I thought 
Of that boy’s faith in God. 




THE BEE??. 

MOTHER dear, pray tell me where 
^ The bees in winter stay? 

The flowers are gone they feed upon, 

So sweet in summer’s day.” 

“ My child, they live within the hive. 

And have enough to eat; 

Amid the storm they ’re clean and warm. 
Their food is honey sweet.” 

“Say, mother dear, how came it there? 

Did father feed them so? 

I see no way in winter’s day 
That honey has to grow.” 


72 


THE BEES. 


73 


‘‘No, no, my child; in summer mild 
The bees laid up their store 
Of honey-drops in little cups, 

Till they would want no more.” 

“In cups, you said — how are they made? 

Are they as large as ours ? ” 

“Oh, no, they’re all made nice and small. 
Of wax found in the flowers. 

“Our summer’s day to work and play 
Is now in n ercy given. 

And we must strive, long as we live, 

To lay up stores in heaven.” 



7 



PEAR NOT. 

"VT’EA, fear not, fear not, little ones; 

There is in heaven an Eye 
That looks with yearning fondness down 
On all the paths ye try. 

’Tis He who guides the sparrow’s wing, 
And guards her little brood ; 

Who hears the ravens w^hen they cry, 

And fills them all with food. 

’Tis He who clothes the fields with flowers. 
And pours the light abroad ; 

’Tis He who numbers all your hours, 

Your Father and your God. 


74 


FEAR NOT. 


75 


Ye are the chosen of his love, 

His most peculiar care; 

And will He guide the fluttering dove, 
And not regard your prayer? 

Nay, fear not, fear not, little ones; 

There is in heaven an Eye 
That looks with yearning fondness down 
On all the paths you try. 

He’ll keep you when the storm is wild. 
And when the flood is near; 

Oh, trust Him, trust Him as a child. 
And you have nought to fear. 




THE APPLE -THEE. 

/^LD John had an apple-tree, healthy and 
^ green, 

That bore the best apples that ever were seen, 

So juicy, and mellow, and red ; 

And when they were ripe, as old Johnny was poor, 
He sold them to children that pass’d by his door, 
To buy him a morsel of bread. 

Little Dick, his next neighbor, one often might see. 
With longing eye, viewing this nice apple-tree. 
And wishing an apple would fall. 

One day, as he stood in the heat of the sun, 

He thought to himself he would like to take. one, 
And then he look’d over the wall. 


THE APPLE-TEEE. 


77 


And as he again cast his eye on the tree, 

He said to himself, “ Oh, how nice they would be ! 

So cool and refreshing to-day. 

The tree is so full, and I’d only take one. 

And old John w^ouldn’t see, for he is not at lioiiic, 
And there ’s nobody now in the way.” 

But stop, little boy — take your hand from the 
bough ; 

Eemember, though Johnny can’t see you just now. 
And no one to chide you is nigh. 

There is One, who by night, just as well as by day. 
Can see all you do, and can hear all you say. 
From his glorious throne in the sky. 

Oh, then, little boy, come away from the tree. 
Content hot or weary or thirsty to be. 

Or anything, rather than steal ; 

For the great God, who even through darkness 
can look. 

Writes down every crime we commit, in his book, 
However we think to conceal. 

7 * 



OUR LOST KITTEN. 

TTILORA, Daisy’s little kitten, 

Having tired herself with play, 
By the kitchen fire was . sitting. 

Very prim, the other day. 

One eye opening — one eye closing. 
Just as sleepy pussies do; 

Sometimes waking — sometimes dozing, 
Thus her thoughts at random flew: 

“ What a tedious life I ’m leading ! 
Crabhie is my only toy ; 

Nothing to be done but feeding — 
Very little fun or joy! 


78 


OUR LOST KITTEN. 


79 


“If the bird-cage were hung lower, 

Dicky soon should feel my nail ; 

If that mousy had run slower, 

I had caught him by the tail! 

“A delicious world lies yonder. 

Farther than the garden door : 

Are there birds to chase, I wonder? 
There are crowds of mice, I’m sure! 

“Who can ever guess the reason 
Why the servants shut the gate? 

But I’ve fix’d to watch my season. 

And slip out some evening late. 

“Then what fun and what enjoyment! 
Threads and bobbins, corks and strings ! 
Catching mice my chief employment, 
’Mongst a thousand glittering things! 

“ True, the sounds from thence are rougher. 
And men’s voices seem more rude. 
And the dogs do bark there grufier 
Than our Crabbie ever could! 


80 


OUR LOST KITTEN. 


*‘But I’ll try: Good evening, Daisy! 

You may stay at home and doze; 

You are getting old and lazy, 

But your little daughter goes! 

“Now, you need not fuss and flurry — 

I ’ll be back in two short hours ; 

None so soft as you, and furry, 

And no bed so warm as ours!” 

Flora then stole out, and watching 
Till the cook came home at night. 

As the garden door was latching. 

She departed out of sight. 

Whether birds were found for chasing. 
Ready waiting in her way — 

Whether there were mice for racing, 

I have never heard them say: , 

But I know, though long we sought h'=”. 

’Midst the boys, and dogs, and men — 
Little Flora, Daisy’s daughter. 
Nevermore was found again. 



GOD IS m HEAVEN. 


^ OD is in heaven — can he hear 
” A feeble prayer like mine? 

Yes, little child, thou need’st not fear. 
He listeneth to thine. 


God is in heaven — can he see 
When I am doing wrong? 

Yes, that He can ; he looks at thee 
All day, and all night long. 

God is in heaven — would he know, 
If I should tell a lie? 

Yes, if thou said^st it very low. 

He’d hear it in the sky. 

P 


81 


82 


GOD IS IN HEAVEN. 


God is in heaven — does he care, 

Or is he good to me? 

Yes, all thou hast to eat or wear, 
’Tis God that giveth thee. 

God is in heaven — can I go 
To thank him for his care? 

Not yet; but love Him here below. 
And he will see it there. 

God is in heaven — may I pray 
To go there when I die? 

Yes, love, be good, and then one day 
He ’ll call thee to the sky. 



V 



TRY AGAIN. 

/^NCE Bruce of Scotland flung him down, 
^ In a lonely mood, to think ; 

’Tis true he was monarch and wore a crown, 
But his heart was beginning to sink. 

For he had been trying to do a great deed. 
To make his people glad; 

He had tried and tried, but he could nT succeed, 
And his heart was sore and sad. 

He flung himself down in dull despair. 

As grieved as a man could be ; 

And as hour after hour he ponder’d there — 
‘‘I must give up at last,” said he. 


83 


84 


TRY AGAIN. 


Now just at that moment a spider dropp’d 
With its silken cobweb clue; 

And the king in the midst of his thinking stopp’d 
To see what the spider would do. 

It soon began to cling and climb 
Straight up with strong endeavor; 

But down it came, time after time, 

As near to the ground as ever. 

But, nothing discouraged, again it went, 

And travell’d a half-yard higher; 

’Twas a delicate thread it had to tread, 

And a road where its feet Vv^ould tire. 

Again it fell and swung below. 

But again it quickly mounted; 

Till, up and down, now fast, now slow. 

Nine brave attempts were counted. 

“Sure!” cried the king, “the foolish thing 
Will strive no more to climb ! 

When it toils so hard to reach and cling 
And tumbles every time I ” 


TKY AGAIN. 


85 


But steadily upward, inch by inch, 

Higher and higher it pass’d; * 

Till a bold little run, at the very last pinch, 
Put it into its web at last! 

“ Bravo, bravo 1 ” the king cried out ; 

“All honor to those who try I 
The spider up there defied despair — 

He conquer’d — why shouldn’t I?” 

And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind. 
And, as gossips tell the tale. 

He tried once more as he tried before, 

And that time he did not fail. 


8 



\ 



A CHILD’S PRAYEK. 

rjlHE day is gone,, the night is come, 
The night for quiet rest ; 

And every little bird has flown 
Home to its downy nest. 

The robin was the last to go; 

Upon the leafless bough. 

He sang his evening hymn to God, 
And he is silent now. 

The bee is hush’d within the hive; 

Shut is the daisy’s eye; 

The stars alone are peeping forth 
From out the darken’d sky. 


86 


A child’s prayer. 


87 


No, not the stars alone ; for God 
Has heard what I have said ; 

His eye looks on his little child, 

Kneeling beside its bed. 

He kindly hears me thank Him now 
For all that ‘he has given. 

For friends, and books, and clothes, and food ; 
But most of all, for heaven — 

Where I shall go when I am dead. 

If truly I do right; 

Where I shall meet all those I love, 

As angels pure and bright. 




THE PET LAMB. 

QITORM upon the mountain, 

^ Night upon its throne! 

And the little snow-white lamb 
Left alone, alone I 
Storm upon the mountain, 

Rainy torrents beating, 

And the little snow-white lamb 
Bleating, ever bleating! 

Down the glen the shepherd 
Drives his flock afar; 

Through the murky mist and cloud 
Shines no beacon star; 

B8 


THE PET LAMB. 


89 


Fast he hurries onward, 

Never hears the moan 
Of the pretty snow-white lamb 
Left alone, alone ! 

At the shepherd’s door-way 
Stands his little son ; 

Sees the sheep come trooping home. 
Counts them one by one; 

Counts them full and fairly — • 

Trace he findeth none 
Of the snow-white lamb 
Left alone, alone ! 

Up the glen he races, 

Breasts the bitter wind. 

Scours across the plain, and leaves 

Wood and wold behind : 

Storm upon the mountain, 

Night upon its throne — 

There he finds the little lamb 

Left alone, alone! 

8 * 


90 


THE PET LAMB. 


Struggling, panting, sobbing. 
Kneeling on the ground, 

Bound the pretty creature’s neck 
Both his arms are wound: 
Soon, within his bosom. 

All its bleatings done. 

Home he bears the little lamb 
Left alone, alone! 

Oh! the happy faces 
By the shepherd’s fire ! 

High, without, the tempest roars, 
But the laugh rings higher: 
Young and old, together, 

Make that joy their own — 

In their midst, the little lamb 
Left alone, alone ! 




THE USE OF FLOWERS. 


^ OD might have made the earth bring forth 
^ Enough for great and small — 

The oak-tree and the cedar-tree, 

Without a flower at all. 


We might have had enough — enough 
For every want of ours, 

For luxury, medicine, and toil — 

And yet have had no flowers. 

The ore within the mountain mine 
Requireth none to grow; 

Nor doth it need the lotus-flower 
To make the river flow. 


91 



92 


THE USE OF FLOWERS. 


The clouds might give abundant rain, 

And mighty dews might fall, 

An^ herb that keepeth life in man 
Might yet have drunk them all. 

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, 
All dyed with rainbow light — 

All fashion’d for supremest grace — 
Upspringing day and night — 

Springing in valleys green and low, 

And on the mountains high, 

And in the silent wilderness, 

Where no man passeth by; 

Our outward life requires them not — ■ 
Then wherefore had they birth? 

To minister delight to man. 

To beautify the earth; 

To comfort man — • to whisper hope. 
Whene’er his faith is dim; 

For Who so careth for the flowers 
Will much more care for him. 



SEVEN TIMES ONE. 

rpHERE ’S no dew left on the daisies and 
clover, 

There ’s no rain left in the heaven ; 

I ’ve said ray “ seven times ” over and over — 
Seven times one are seven. 

I am old — so old I can write a letter; 

My birthday lessons are done; 

The lambs play always, they know no better ; 
They are only one times one. 

O moon ! in the night I have seen you sailing. 
And shining so round and low ; 

You were bright! ah, bright I but your light is 
failing — 

You are nothing now but a bow. 


93 


94 


SEVEN TIMES ONE. 


You moon, have you done something wrong in 
heaven, 

That God has hidden your face? 

I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven. 
And shine again in your place. 

O velvet bee ! you ’re a dusty fellow, 

You’ve powder’d your legs with gold! 

O brave marsh-mary birds, rich and yellow I 
Give me your money to hold! 

O columbine! open your folded wrapper. 
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell ! 

0 cuckoo pint! toll me the purple clapper. 
That hangs in your clear, green bill ! 

And show me your nest with the young ones 
in it — 

I will not steal them away ; 

1 am old, you may trust me, linnet, linnet, 

I am seven times one to-day. 



THE ILL-NATURED BRIER. 

X ITTLE Miss Brier came out of the ground, 
She put out her thorns and scratch’d every- 
thing ’round, 

“I ’ll just try,” said she, 

“ How bad I can^be ; 

At pricking and scratching, there’s few can 
match me.” 

Little Miss Brier was handsome and bright. 

Her leaves were dark-green, and her flowers were 
pure white ; 

But all who came nigh her . 

Were so worried by her 

They ’d go out of their way to keep clear of the 
Brier. 


95 


96 


THE ILL-NATURED BRIER. 


Little Miss Brier was looking, one day, 

At her neighbor, the Violet, over the way : 

“ I wonder,” said she. 

That no one pets me. 

While all seem so glad little Violet to see?” 

A sober old Linnet, who sat on a tree. 

Heard the speech of the Brier, and thus answer’d 
he: 

“ ^ T is not that she ’s fair. 

For you may compare 
In beauty with even Miss Violet there : 

“ But Violet is always so pleasant and kind. 

So gentle in manner, so humble in mind. 

E’en the worms at her feet 
She would never ill-treat. 

And to Bird, Bee, and Butterfly always is sweet.” 

The gard’ner’s wife just then the pathway came 
down. 

And the mischievous Brier caught hold of her 
gown; 


THE ILL-NATURED BRIER. 


97 


‘‘ Oh, dear ! what a tear! 

My gown ’s spoil’d, I declare I 
That troublesome Brier! — it has no business 
there : 

Here, John, grub it up, throw it into the fire;” 
And that was the end of the troublesome Brier. 




CONSCIENCE. 

rilHY heart keeps knocking all the day; 

What does it mean? what does it say? 
Thy heart keeps knocking all the night: 
Child, hast thou thought of this aright? 

So long has it knock’d, now loud, now low, 
Hast ask’d what it means by knocking so? 

My child, ’t is a lively little bell. 

The dear God’s gift who loves thee well ; 

In the door of thy soul, by Him ’twas hung. 
And by His hand it still is rung ; 

And He stands without to wait and see 
Whether within he shall welcome be ; 

And stands without, and hopes to win 
The welcome answer, “ Come in, come in.” 


CONSCIENCE. 


99 


So knocks the heart now, day by day, 

But at length the last stroke will die away ; 
And when its knockings on earth are o’er, 
It will knock itself at heaven’s door, 

And stand without to wait and see 
Whether within it shall welcome be; 

And stand without, and hope to win 
The Father ’s welcome, “ Come in, come in.” 




THE CHILDREN’S HOUR. 

“pETWEEN the dark and daylight, 

When the night is beginning to lower; 
Comes a pause in the day’s occupations, 
That is known as the Children's Hour. 

I hear in the chamber above me 
The patter of little feet, 

The sound of a door that is open’d, 

And voices soft and sweet. 

From my study I see in the lamplight. 
Descending the broad hall-stair, 

Grave Alice and lau^rhing Allegra, 

And Edith with golden hair. 


100 


THE children’s HOUR. 


101 


A whimper, and then a silence; 

Yet I know by their merry eyes 
They are plotting and planning together 
To take me by surprise. 

A sudden rush from the stairway, 

A sudden raid from the hall! 

By three doors left unguarded 
They enter my castle wall. 

They climb up into my turret, 

O’er the arms and back of my chair; 
If I try to escape, they surround me ; 
They seem to be everywhere. 

They almost devour me with kisses. 
Their arms about me entwine. 

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen, 

In his Mouse-Tower on the Ehine. 

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti. 
Because you have scaled the wall. 
Such an old moustache as I am. 

Is not a match for you all ? 

9 * 


102 


THE children’s HOUR. 


I have you fast in the fortress, 

And will not let you depart, 

But put you down in the dungeons 
In the round-tower of my heart. 

And there I will keep you forever. 
Yes, forever and a day; 

Till the walls shall tumble in ruin 
And moulder in dust away. 




WHAT SHALL BE MY ANGEL- NAME. 

TN the land where I am going, 

When my earthly life is o’er, 

Where the tired hands cease their striving. 
And the tired heart aches no more — 

In that land of light and beauty. 

Where no shadow ever came 
To o’ercloud the perfect glory — 

What shall be my angel -name? 

When the spirits who await me 
Meet me at my entering in. 

What that name of love and music 
Will their welcoming begin? 


103 


104 WHAT SHALL BE MY ANGEL -NAME? 


Not the one so dimm’d with earth -stains. 
Link’d with thoughts of grief and pain; 

No! the name that mortals gave me 
Will not be my angel -name! 

For the angels will not call me 
By the name 1 bear on earth; 

They will speak a holier language 
Where I have my holier birth — 

Syllabled to heavenly music, 

Sweeter far than earth may claim; 

Very gentle, pure and tender — 

Such will be my angel -name. 




A SWINGING SONG. 

’ll TERRY it is, on a summer’s day, 

All through the meadows to wend away ; 
To watch the brooks glide fast or slow. 

And the little fish twinkle down below ; 

To hear the lark in the blue sky sing : 

Oh, sure enough, ’tis a merry thing. 

But ’t is merrier far to swing, to swing ! 

Merry it is, on a winter’s night. 

To listen to tales of elf and sprite. 

Of caves and castles so dim and old — 

The dismallest tales that ever were told ; 

And then to laugh, and then to sing. 

You may take my word, is a merry thing; 

But ’t is merrier far to swing, to swing. 

105 



106 


A SWINGING SONG. 


Down with the hoop upon the green — 

Down with the swinging tambourine; 

Little heed we for this or for that; 

Off with the bonnet, off with the hat; 

Away we go, like birds on the wing! 

Higher yet! higher yet! “Now for the king!” 
This is the way we swing, we swing. 

Scarcely the bough bends, Claude is so light; 
Mount up behind him — there, that is right! 
Down bends the branch now ; swing him away. 
Higher yet ! higher yet ! higher, I say ! 

Oh, what a joy it is ! Now let us sing, 

“ A pear for the queen — an apple for the king!’* 
And shake the old tree as we swing, we swing. 




PRINCIPLE TESTED. 
YOUNGSTER at school more sedate than 



the rest, 

Had once his integrity put to the test : 

His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob, 

And ask’d him to go and assist in the job. 

He was very much shock’d, and answer’d, “Oh, 
no! 

What! rob our good neighbor? I pray you don’t 
go: 

Besides, the man’s poor, and the orchard’s his 
bread ; 

Then think of his children, for they must be fed.” 


107 


108 


PRINCIPLE TESTED. 


“ Y ou speak very fine, and you look very grave, 
But apples we want, and apples we ’ll have : 

If you will go with us, we ’ll give you a share ; 
If not, you shall have neither apple nor pear.” 

They spoke, and Tom ponder’d : “ I see they will 

go; 

Poor man ! what a pity to injure him so ! 

Poor man ! I would save him his fruit if I could. 
But my staying behind will do him no good. 

“ If this matter depended alone upon me. 

His apples might hang till they dropp’d from the 
tree; 

But since they will . take them, I think I ’ll go 
too; 

He will lose none by me, though I do get a few.” 

His scruples thus silenced, Tom felt more at ease, 
And went with his comrades the apples to seize ; 
He blamed and protested, but join’d ri the plan ; 
He shared in the plunder, but pitied the man. 


PRINCIPLE TESTED. 


109 


Conscience slumber’d awhile, but soon woke in 
his breast ; 

And in language severe the delinquent address’d 
With such empty and selfish pretences away ! 
By your actions you’re judged, be your speech 
what it may.” 



10 



CHARLIE, AND THE ROBIN’S SONG. 

i^NE summer morning early, 

When the dew was bright to see. 
Our dark -eyed little Charlie 
Stood by his mother’s knee. 

And he heard a robin singing 
In a tree so tall and high; 

On the topmost bough ’twas swinging, 
Away up in the sky. 

“ Mamma, the robin ’s praying. 

In the very treetop there; 

110 


CHARLIE, AND THE ROBIN’s SONG. Ill 

‘ Glory ! glory ! ’ it is saying, 

And that is all its prayer. 

“But God will surely hear him. 

And the angels, standing by, 

For God is very near him, 

Away up in the sky.” 

“My child! God is no nearer 
To robin on the tree. 

And does not hear him clearer 
Than He does you and me. 

“For He hears the angels harping 
In sun -bright glory dress’d. 

And the little birdlings chirping 
Within their leafy nest.” 

“ Mamma, if you should hide me. 

Away down in the dark. 

And leave no lamp beside me. 

Would God then have to hark?” 


112 


CHARLIE, AND THE ROBIN’s SONG. 


“My darling little lisper, 
God’s light is never dim; 
The very lowest whisper 
Is always close to HimJ’ 









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